


for better or for worse

by disorderedorder



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Gentleness, Insecurity, Soft Kylo Ren, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 08:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15385125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disorderedorder/pseuds/disorderedorder
Summary: so baby, tell me where your love lieswaste the day and spend the nightunderneath the sunriseshow me where your love liesor,kylo is insecure about his body after spending too much time in the medbay. you'd like to fix that.





	for better or for worse

**Author's Note:**

> as a sort of sequel to my other fic, [to have and to hold](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11524407), I thought it would be fitting to make a follow up to a fic so many people liked so much...over a year later. I hope this lives up to whatever expectations people might have had for a sequel.

Most people you knew would have given almost anything to spend three weeks in the medbay without having to worry about making up any work once they were approved for release, considering the workloads you and many of the officers and troopers who called the Finalizer home had to deal with on a daily basis. Your job as the ship’s translator often found you far away from the medbay, other than the rare occasion when you needed to translate the active ingredients in some medicines for the doctors on board. Other than that small task, your job was centered in communications, working with high-ranking officers to decipher codes and odd, mostly-forgotten languages. Unlike many of your colleagues from the academy, who thought that they could get out with an ‘easy’ degree in basic translation studies, you enjoyed what you did. You loved the intricacy of languages, the sounds of foreign words, writing in things other than Basic in longhand just for fun.

However, that all changed after the destruction of Starkiller Base. It was no secret that you, out of all the living beings on the Finalizer, were the closest to the Commander, given your time spent with him ever since he agreed to teach you Ancient Sith, and the close, intimate relationship that had come from it. The first person he had asked for after being rescued from the snow had been you, even while the doctors were struggling to sedate him and get him into a bacta tank. It had been a good hour and a half before the general had been able to track you down, and another half hour before you could leave the main docking bay prior to a mandatory headcount. Captain Phasma herself had led you to the medbay, into a private area reserved for Commander Ren, before instructing you to wait there until further notice. You hadn’t had time to ask what it meant before she had left you alone once more, no doubt to tend to her legions of troopers still alive after the destruction.

The instructions came not too much later, and they were fairly simple ones at that. Your current duties would be temporarily taken over by another translator, transferred from another ship, while you would stay with Commander Ren in the medbay to preside over the healing process, per the orders given by the Commander himself nearly a year ago. While you never saw the exact orders, you imagined they had to be a simple request that you stay where he was, even if it meant replacing you, albeit temporarily. What had surprised you at the time was not the order, but rather, the date on which he had declared it. Nearly a year ago, you had just begun speaking to one another, and he’d been far from taking his mask off around you then. It was both flattering and a tiny bit confusing, but you had brushed off the negative feeling you had to sit by his bedside while he slept.

Seeing him out of his heavy, oversized black robes had been strange, even if it hadn’t been the first time you’d seen him naked. He was hooked to countless tubes, IVs sprouting from his arms like growing plants in the spring. Bandages covered his torso, wrapping across his abdomen, his arms, and his shoulders, a gaudy red just beginning to peek out from the pristine white of the gauze. His face was bisected with a nasty cut, held together with metal staples for the time being, and below him, a sterile cloth was damp with sweat. His hair was wet with blood and perspiration, and beside you, the doctor tending to him informed you of his status, his vitals, and the predicted recovery time. You had run your fingers over his much larger hands, hoping to feel a twitch, a squeeze, but receiving nothing in response to your touch.

For the first stretch of time, they kept him sedated, feeding him through tubes and keeping him hydrated and stable. Despite the knowledge that you knew he couldn’t hear you, you spoke to him often, sometimes reading, and when possible, keeping a hand over his while he rested. The first day of each week always began with submersion in the bacta tank, leaving you unable to touch him, and usually, you made yourself comfortable in your little corner of the room on your little cot and read, out loud, from your favorite novels. Most of them were not First Order sanctioned, but the Commander had approved them for you anyway, and as a result, you were able to spend many of your nights in your quarters reading your old favorites, as well as new ones you had requested. Reading out loud to a recovering Commander made the room feel less grim, less dark, and in your little corner of the medbay, you began to feel hope.

The first day he opened his eyes was also the day he was to receive stitches for his facial wound, as well as a proper sterile bath, and you had sat by his side the entire time while he stared at you as though it was the first time he was seeing you. The tenderness in his eyes was so very unlike his usual self that you wondered if the induced coma they had kept him in had somehow softened him. However, this was quickly swayed when he nearly choked a med tech when they tried to escort you out for his bath. He had growled, used the Force to hold them while he kept one hand on you, squeezing gently. The techs learned quickly to leave you alone, to allow you to stay no matter the procedure, and that feeding the Commander real foods was best left up to you. He allowed you to spoon-feed him as though he were a child, due to his hands still being too out of use to do it himself. His old self began to come back, in the form of gentle, but teasing jokes he made when you cared for him.

His kisses returned in all their intensity and their frequency, whether they be little kisses to your hands when you read to him, or long, lingering kisses on your lips and neck when you curled up on the bed with him to get him to fall asleep. A layer of stubble had appeared on his jaw, and was getting longer as the days went by, the hair scratching your skin whenever he kissed you. He asked if you wanted it gone, but you found yourself liking the subtle change in his appearance, the gentle scratch when he gave you kisses. The thing you enjoyed the most, however, were the squeezes to your hands when you rested your small hands in his much larger ones. Though he looked a little thin from being fed via tubes for a while, he was already beginning to gain some of his weight back, and still much, much larger than you, enough to curl around you at night when you got too cold, when you pulled all your blankets from your cot and curled up next him in his own bed.

Rarely did you leave the room, other than for meals for yourself to bring back, or clean clothes, or more blankets for you both, and each time, you were always greeted with a gentle purring, an outstretched arm, and the soft call of your nickname. The Commander always seemed so much softer when he was laying in bed, groggy from just having woken up, and calling your nickname. But as soft as he was, he also was a bit disgruntled that you had to do everything for him, as well as occasionally grumpy that he constantly felt useless. Often he complained that he couldn’t do more for you other than gentle kisses, which was followed by you trying to reassure him that he would be able to do more soon, once he healed. It didn’t counter his grumbling entirely, but it did help a bit when it came to helping him eat and bathe.

Now, a month after his official release from the medbay under strict instructions barring vigorous exercise, he rests in his quarters, nestled into his large bed, still sleepy even at ten hundred hours. He yawns, stretching his arms up over his head while he settles more into his bed, proceeding to pull the fluffy black comforter further up over his bare chest. His movements rouse you from your light sleep, and you murmur and nuzzle closer to his warmth as he settles his arms over you. After nearly two months in the medbay, his muscle tone has gone down quite a bit, and the weight he has gained back is soft and supple, giving him rolls around his stomach and waistband, his thighs a bit softer than before, wide enough to touch when he stands, and even the muscles of his arms are cushioned with extra weight. His ban from both the training rooms and the gym, as well as being forbidden to have weights and exercise equipment in his quarters has caused a different kind of grumbling, mostly about the powder he has to put between his thighs to prevent chafing.

“Good morning,” you say, snuggling closer to him as he exhales, shifting in bed and grumbling at the way his thighs rub against each other. Gingerly, he pulls the covers off himself without disturbing yours, throwing his half of the duvet and sheets and throws over you as he examines his thighs. Darker stripes stretch across them, towards the bands of his underwear, and as he sits up, a soft roll of fat hangs ever so slightly over the tight waistband. He growls softly, pinching hard at his skin as if it’s enough to make it go away.

He pinches at his arm next, frowning as he feels the soft flesh of his bicep where muscle used to be. For several seconds, he inhales, holding his breath as he stares down at his stomach, where it no longer hangs over his waistband. As he exhales, he grumbles, falling back into bed and sighing as he yanks the covers back over himself. He huffs in frustration, kicking the sheets bunched around his feet as you roll over to wrap your arms around his waist. At your touch, he relaxes a fraction of an amount before attempting to pull away. His hands grip your wrists, not too tightly, but enough to pull your hands apart, and you pause for a moment before you begin running your fingers lightly over his back, tracing the scars there. Some of the wounds are still bandaged, but they’re healing fast. Still, you know that’s not what he’s the most concerned about.

“I hate it,” he mutters, almost too quietly for you to hear. “My body has never looked this way, Little One.”

Tentatively, you trace the length of his spine, before your hands trail to his thighs. He tenses, but he allows you to run your hands up and down his thighs as he attempts to curl up into himself. Even though he’s a foot and a half taller than you are, at six feet, eight inches, you can reach his thighs when he’s all scrunched up like this. True, there’s a lot less muscle there than there used to be, but it’s not permanent, and it matters little to you how muscular he is as long as he’s with you. As your fingers glide over his skin, he shivers, but he makes no move to stop you as you curl up right behind him, the curve of his body fitting right against yours as you continue to touch him. He flinches when your hands reach the rolls of his stomach, sighs when you slide them across his cock, sniffles when you gently scratch his thighs and try to soothe the bit of chafing between them.

“I still love you, Kylo,” you say, resting your head against his back and giving him light, soft little kisses as you nudge his feet with yours, urging him to pull them back and tuck them between your calves.

“Little One, please,” he says, sounding sadder than before. “I don’t feel like myself, not like this. Not with all this extra...fat.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your body,” you insist. “I love you whether you’re twice my size and can throw someone across the room to protect me, or if you’re not allowed to exercise and work off the food you ate. You’re still my Kylo.”

With a long, heavy sigh, he rolls over to face you, forcing you to let go of him when he does, and he lets his hair fall over his face as he pushes his head against your shoulder as you wrap your arms around him once more, stroking the messy black waves and smoothing them down. He shakes with frustrated tears that dampen your skin, his hands twisting your silk nightdress as he bites hard at his lips to muffle the sounds of his pent-up anger and frustration at his own body. Your touch does little to soothe him as he growls softly, his ability to cry fading away as he’s left sniffling and holding onto you like he’s afraid you’ll leave.

“Kylo,” you murmur, gently combing his hair with your fingers. “Roll over.”

“Why?” he asks petulantly, almost childishly.

“Because,” you answer simply. “I’ll show you.”

It takes a moment, but he obeys, rolling onto his back as you adjust, pushing the heavy coverings aside and onto the floor. He watches silently as you climb between his thighs, hands braced on them for support as you begin to kiss him. His eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his, and after a moment, you switch your attention to his chin, the stubble there scratching your lips. You kiss a trail down his neck to his collarbone, your hands massaging his thighs as he sighs contentedly, his hands resting on your waist. Each kiss you lay on his skin is gentle, petal-soft, and when you reach his sternum, his breaths stutter as your hands slide up to hold his waist. He’s forced to let go of you as you begin to kiss his stomach, and you can feel his entire body tense as you kiss every soft roll, your hands gently squeezing the excess skin that pads his waist and abdomen.

“Little One…” he sighs, his eyes fluttering closed again. “What—”

“Shhh,” you cut him off gently. “I love you, Kylo.”

You press another kiss, this one close to his waistband, and his thighs tense as you hook your fingers in the waistband of his underwear and pull, inching them past his thighs, and once they’re around his knees, he does the rest of the work getting them off for you. But instead of moving to his cock, you inch further down the bed to kiss his thighs, and you feel Kylo’s fingers in your hair, wrapping it around them as he pulls gently. You administer kisses to every stretch mark, every mole, every marking, before you come back up to kiss him again.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, his tongue coming out to lick at them before he bites your lower lip. “Are you sure you love me like...this?”

“Of course I do,” you reply, smoothing his hair back from his face, as you study his dark eyes, the architectural lines of his face, every single beauty mark you’ve come to know as though they’re your own, his soft jawline covered in stubble, his full, petal-pink lips swollen from kissing. “I have never wanted anyone more than I want you, no matter if you look like this, or if you’re thin, or if you gain all this weight back as muscle one day. I will always love you, Kylo, and that will never change.”

His hands run along your thighs as you kneel between his legs, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your thong as he inches it down slowly with one hand, the other gripping your ass, squeezing gently as you kiss him again, pressing your body against his as you practically melt into him. His breaths shudder as you straddle him, moving so you can ride him, and as you begin to sink down onto his cock, he moans loudly, his hands going immediately to your waist.

“Slower, Little One, please,” he nearly pleads. “It’s been too long, I won’t last if you go too fast.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, and he lets out another shaky breath as you begin to sink down onto his cock more, as slowly as you can with as needy as you are. He’s right—it has been too long, too long since you two have been able to be together like this, and when you’re finally sitting flush with his hips, with all of him inside you, you begin to ride him, slowly.

“I love you, Little One, I love you so much,” Kylo moans brokenly, his words repeated like a prayer, a vow, as he thrusts into you, arms wrapped around you as he tries to last, his fingers sliding down the front of your body to rub at your clit. The pads of his fingers are still rough, his movements a little sloppy from being so out of practice, and you reach down to guide him as you feel yourself tightening around him, getting wetter as he thrusts harder, rubs you faster, and with a whimper of his name, you cum, with Kylo doing the same not even a minute later.

His cheeks are red, his hair damp with sweat as he settles you in his lap more comfortably while you kiss the top of his head. Kylo’s breaths are still coming fast, hot on your skin as he begins to catch his breath. He nuzzles you like a pet, head resting against your chest as he holds you close, pressing soft kisses of his own to your skin. You wrap your legs around his waist, squeezing his middle with your thighs gently as you pet his hair. You can feel him smile against your skin, and you can feel his eyelashes tickle you as he closes his eyes, acceptance and contentment finally washing over him for the first time in months.

As he begins to drift off to sleep once more, you lift yourself off of him, cleaning the mess off his cock with your tongue before you retrieve the blankets and curl up to his side once more, feeling his arms wrap around you in a cocoon of warmth. He presses kisses to your hair sleepily, his chest rising and falling slowly. The look on his face is peaceful, no longer angry and frustrated and tense, and it warms you just as much as he ever could physically. With one final kiss to his chest, you, too, find yourself drifting off to sleep once more. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have moved on tumblr! currently I am [here](http://clydelogan.tumblr.com/), a whole new blog with a fresh start! come say hello!


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